Respecting the Silence
by Eve Davidson
Summary: Craig's post rehab musings about Ellie.
1. Chapter 1

Serendipity. Shit, this wasn't what I wanted to do. Sometimes you just have to go with it. Would anyone notice that this isn't me? Notice the details and write them down. Okay, okay. Just let me breathe a minute.

Out of rehab, writing songs again, taking the psych meds, all of that. Respecting Ellie's silence. I hurt her. I know I did. I hurt everyone, and it's easy to analyze it, to say that I was hurt first. Maybe I was. But we all were.

It's like quitting smoking cigarettes, which I did, too. For a while after I quit the cocaine I smoked like a fiend, because a nicotine buzz was better than no buzz at all and it was something to do. Not talking to Ellie is like that, I forget about it sometimes but every half hour or so I remember. I see her at the airport, long red hair, little eyes, freckles. There was such finality in her voice when she said it, "goodbye, Craig," like goodbye forever.

Well, I've had those forever goodbyes with people and I pretty much know how it goes. It sort of fades after awhile, the way my parents faded. They faded, Jesus, that sounds awful. But they did. My mother has been dead eight years, my father, five. There is that part of me that longs for them and remembers them vividly but that part is kind of walled off. I just don't want to do that with Ellie. I don't want her to fade.

There's no shortage of girls, I know that sounds sort of crass but it's true. Girls have always liked me. I'm not all that good looking, I mean I am a little bit, sure, but I know it's more than just looks. It's because I can't be what they want or what they need, I can't get over my own stupid issues and certain girls like this, they respond to it. Like Manny and Ellie. Not Ashley so much. With Ashley things were different. So there's girls to kiss and girls to fuck and girls to distract me. None of them are Ellie.

I can't, I can't have Ellie. I just have to face it. Maybe I'm only focusing on her because I can't have her, maybe I'm a sick fuck like that. I want her because she said no. It might be like that. I don't know. I really do try not to think about it. It's time to move on. Out of rehab and out of that whole Degrassi mess. That whole Degrassi entanglement. It was high school, honestly. Ellie belongs in that section of my life marked 'high school' and so she shouldn't cross over to my adult life. High school sucked. It pretty much sucks for everyone, I guess.

So I'm good now. I wake up and drink my coffee and I don't smoke and I don't do lines and I write songs and sometimes I'll meet up with some girl and try to find her as interesting as Ellie. I threw it away. She got me, she always got what I was doing with my songs and with my life. She was…she was definitely someone I didn't appreciate at the time. But fuck it. Fuck regret. What can I do? I screwed up. No one's perfect.

Sometimes the silence feels loud, it seems loud. She hasn't called, e-mailed, text messaged, none of it. Nothing. I can hear that silence, the white noise. I won't break it. It's the least I can do, I guess. It's a closed door. But no other door has opened.

Sometimes I think I could call her. But then if she said something in this cold voice, this final voice, something like, "Why are you calling me, Craig?" I don't think I could take it. It would shatter the little tattered remains of my ego.

It's not just Ellie I'm not talking to. I'm not talking to any of them anymore. They used to be such a huge part of my life, Marco and Spinner and Jimmy and Manny. Now it's like they were never there. Was it really as important as I thought?

Shit, this sucks. Angst ridden emo shit. It's too bad I fucked it up but I can't go back. I thought she'd say, at the airport I thought she'd say things would be okay. She'd wait for me and we could hook up and everything would be fine, because she's always waited for me before. Her little crush kind of made me take her for granted. I know it did.


	2. Chapter 2

I hate not doing what I want to do. I want to call Ellie. I want to do lines of coke out of boredom.

Staying with Joey, his new place in Calgary. It's small like the one in Toronto, all the familiar furniture looks out of place in the new surroundings.

Nothing's really changed with Joey. I mean, as far as me and him are concerned. It's one problem after another, bipolar, drug addiction. Child abuse. I can see it in his eyes that he's accepted it now. It's not going to get better, not with me. There'll be another problem around the bend.

Angela's in fifth grade now. She's tall and growing up and not a little kid anymore. I shake my head when I look at her. How'd she get so old so fast? Sometimes it's like I haven't really noticed her since I was in ninth grade.

Drinking coffee in the morning, the one stupid drug I can have except lithium and depakote, of course. They wanted to add seroquel and ativan but I said no.

But I take what's prescribed without Joey even having to ask. Even though I can't function on them, in a way. I can't write songs as well, can't think as well. But is bleeding onstage because of snorting too much coke, is that really functioning well? I can't win.

Morning. Sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee, watching Ang pick at her oatmeal. She was never much of an eater.

"You like your new school, Ang?" I said. She looked up at me with a sad smile.

"Yeah," she said. She was lying. It was awful to be the new kid, I knew.

"I'm gonna drive her to school. You'll be okay?" Joey said, gathering up all the stuff as Ang dumped most of her oatmeal down the sink.

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound annoyed. All Joey did was worry about me, and he never complained. I knew I was a pain in the ass, and marrying my mother, I supposed that made me his responsibility. It got tiring, being somebody's responsibility.

I watched them go, Joey's eyes on the road, Ang's head bent down. The reflections of the house and other cars and sky on the car windows. I finished my cup of coffee and poured another, rubbed my hand across my cheek and the stiff beard stubble there. I should shave. I should at least pretend to be functioning.

Half a dozen times I'd reached for the phone to call Ellie, but stopped myself each time. She doesn't want it. That goodbye was goodbye. The whole time in rehab I'd wanted to talk to her, wanted her to call or come see me or talk to Joey, even. Nothing. There was nothing. I'd been so awful to her so if she wanted a clean break I'd have to honor that.

Joey came back. I watched him pick up a little, clean the table. Busywork.

"Why aren't you at work?" I said.

"Took the day off,"

"To babysit me?"

"No," he sat down near me, "it's not like that, Craig. But I wanted to be here for you. It's not easy, I understand that. Not completely, but enough. So, look, I thought we could look at colleges,"

"Colleges?"

"Yeah, just look into it. It's not too late to go to college,"

I gritted my teeth. I knew he was just trying to help, and I guess it wasn't such a bad idea. I supposed. It wouldn't hurt to look. It might get my mind off of Ellie.


	3. Chapter 3

I had bought a pack of cigarettes and was sitting out on Joey's cold deck, smoking. Smoking too much. I inhaled, breathing the smoke deep into my lungs. Coughing it out. Smoking made me feel like crap but it was the only thing I could do, except drink strong coffee. I couldn't really drink alcohol since it messed with my psych meds, and I'd never been much of a drinker, anyway.

I'd bought the pack of cigarettes and was smoking them one by one because I was pissed. I puffed lightly on my Marlboro so I wouldn't hack up a lung, blew the smoke out and watched it twirl away. I really wanted to be snorting some coke. I liked that confidence boost. I'd liked feeling good about myself for once. I'd felt bad for so long. But there was no coke here and I didn't want to try and get it. Didn't even know if I could. But even if I could I couldn't do that. I'd kicked it. I'd suffered in that rehab, being locked up again, clawing at the sheets at night, my eyes round and staring. I'd kicked it. I wouldn't go back to it. I was pissed because Joey suggested college.

I closed my eyes for longer than a blink, pitched the butt away onto the frost bit lawn. College. I didn't know about school. School had been okay for awhile but then, with the bipolar, I didn't really have the attention span or drive for school. That wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to focus on my music, and I had been until I screwed it all up.

Smoking made me feel sick. I knew how bad it was, of course. But everything was bad, even the psych meds I had to take. But what could I do? If I didn't take them I wouldn't be able to function. But sometimes I missed that energy that came with the manic phase of it. I could get so much done, all the songs I could write.

I could see Joey inside the house. He was keeping his eye on me. I felt like the grade nine kid I had been, suicidal and so messed up. I guess in a way I was still that kid. Had I ever even dealt with that stuff, my dad and his death and all of that? Things piled on top of me so fast, I felt like I couldn't deal with one thing before another came along.

Ellie. Her name popped into my head again. I reached for another cigarette just because I had to have something. I sipped the coffee I'd brought with me out onto the deck and lit my cigarette and thought of Ellie. I could see that look on her face, that wave of disappointment, and I knew I put that look there. It was like, the instant I realized I couldn't have her she was all I wanted. I could see her smooth long red hair, her eyes, the shape of her nose and her lips, her nails short and painted dark red or black. The scars on her wrists and arms, little ghosts of scratches. I wanted to call her, talk to her, see her. I clenched my hands into tight fists, feeling that frustration. I wanted to call her, like some baby, some irrational Id, I wanted what I wanted.

This sucked. I didn't want to be living with Joey again while my music career stalled, I didn't want to go to college and be bored to death in classes, thinking of all I should have been doing instead. I wanted to be with Ellie since she had pushed me away. And what if she hadn't done that? Would I be sitting here smoking and dying to call her? What if she had been all smiles and kisses at the airport and said she'd wait, however long it took, that we'd hook up and everything would be great? Would I still want her the same way?

"Craig?" Joey came out on the deck, hugging himself in the cold morning air. I saw the look he gave me and my cigarette and I didn't care. What did cigarettes matter at this point? He'd seen me in the airport when he came to pick me up, a high mess. I'd done some in the bathroom before I'd left and I was high as a kite by the time I saw him, babbling almost incoherently about god knew what. It was part bipolar manic, part cocaine high, part heart break over Ellie, and Joey had just looked at me with that sad look, that shaking head sad look that I'd come so accustomed to over the years. Cigarettes were the least of my problems.

He eyed the cigarette with disapproval but he didn't say anything. I'd given up trying to be who people wanted or needed me to be. I couldn't do that anymore. It never worked anyway. Look at my dad. I had structured my life around him, being home when he wanted me to be, and I'd tried to say everything right and do everything right and be exactly who he wanted me to be, and he beat me anyway. So it didn't matter. I guess my dad taught me that you couldn't please other people, not really. You could barely please yourself.

"Have you given college anymore thought?" he said, and I inhaled on my cigarette.

"Yeah. Joey, I really don't want to do that. It isn't for me. It would be too much like giving up, you know? And I'm not ready to give up yet,"


End file.
